


énouement

by summerwoodsmoke



Series: miles to go before i sleep [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, How Does Ahsoka Get From The Jedi Temple To The Ghost?, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Second Person, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7395256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerwoodsmoke/pseuds/summerwoodsmoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't remember your family. </p><p>What you do remember is this: a multitude of voices, none of them clear enough to make anything out, and a Kel Dor kneeling before you, holding out his hand. </p><p>Sometimes, you regret taking that hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> énouement— from the dictionary of obscure sorrows, describing "the bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, where you can finally get the answers to how things turn out in the real world..." [http://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/post/34300648208/%C3%A9nouement]
> 
> as the tag says, this story focuses on ahsoka, following her after she leaves the jedi until she ends up in a position to meet the crew of the ghost, featuring a Lot of flashbacks.

You don't remember your family.  
  
What you _do_ remember is this: a multitude of voices, none of them clear enough to make anything out, and a Kel Dor kneeling before you, holding out his hand.  
  
Sometimes, you regret taking that hand.

 

* * *

  
  
You lose yourself on Coruscant. You avoid the HoloNet News for a few days, hoping to avoid anything on Barriss or her trial.  
  
By the time you feel whole enough to check, your mast— _Anakin Skywalker_ is already off-world.  
  
Wandering, you find yourself on the opposite end of the planet as the Temple in a number of days. You're closer to the surface than you’ve ever been, and this is a side of Coruscant you rarely see, even grittier and seedier than you are used to.  
  
In one neighbourhood, there's a school, for non-human children. Most of them are Twi'leks. They need help with security. Your stomach drops to your feet when you learn that—that even here, these little ones are in danger of losing their freedom.  
  
You're a Togruta. You know your way around a fight. They practically hire you on the spot.

 

* * *

 

The only dreams you have anymore are nightmares. They get especially bad when you find out what happened to Fives. Clones kill clones, clones kill Jedi, Jedi kill Jedi. Everything is red, then grey, then gone, and you wake up, regretting taking Plo Koon's hand for the second time.

 

* * *

  
  
The first time you regretted coming to Coruscant to become a Jedi, you were nine. You were trying your hardest to meet the requirements to be able to travel to Ilum and undergo the Gathering, even though you were a little young for it.  
  
Through most of your childhood, you'd picked up the training with ease, surpassing those your age and often joining older groups with their training. But not anymore. Now, you were stuck in your training, and you _hated_ it.

 _Why did I ever come, it's all_ useless _, I'm never gonna get out of this temple, I WISH I'D NEVER COME._  
  
"Anger in you, I sense," came a voice from behind you. You scrunched your eyebrows together and felt, simultaneously, both the urge to let all your anger rush out of your body, and the urge to gather it up in your fists and scream. As a result, you sat so still you began to shake.  
  
Master Yoda walked around the cushion you sat on to face you. "Failed, you have not," he said simply. "Merely a stepping stone, this is. You must learn, young one, your limitations, and the challenge of surpassing them, you will meet. Prevail, you will. Have trust in the Force."  
  
You didn't know what to say. You were still upset, but significantly less so than before. Yoda didn't seem to need a reply. He pulled himself onto the cushion next to yours and without a word, began to meditate. At a loss, you joined him.  
  
You meditated for hours, and by the time the sun set, you felt more calm than you had probably your whole life. Not just calm. Ready. Focused. You _would_ make it to Ilum and build your lightsabre. You would make it happen.  
  
 

* * *

  
  
When an incident occurs, whether at the school, or a restaurant, or on the street, your first instinct is still to reach for hilts at your waist that aren't there anymore.  
  
You are armed with a blaster set to stun and your own body, with the Force flowing through it. That is all you have. That is all you need.  
  
This far from the Temple, people don't see Jedi too often, especially not since the war started. You assume (and hope) no one knows what it means that you reach for a weapon that is never there, and that you can maybe sense things a normal person wouldn't know.  
  
"I'm good at my job," you say to anyone that does ask. "And dedicated. That's all it is."

 

* * *

  
  
Camping on Felucia was no special affair. It was just about like camping on any other planet in the galaxy, except perhaps wetter. Some things, however, remained no matter where you went: a comforting blanket of noise from the men as they set up for the night; the taste of the ration bar, dense on your tongue; the feeling of the ground beneath you, despite the pad you lie on. You appreciate the humidity; you need little cover with the air as warm and heavy as it is.  
  
In the morning, you help the men break down camp while Anakin and Plo Koon strategize with Rex and Wolffe. Droid reinforcements are arriving today, and Master Plo wants to be ready. You join them at the end to learn your part, eager to get going.  
  
Why are you so eager?  
  
"Slow down, Snips!" Anakin laughs. "The war isn't going anywhere."  
  
You are so good at war.  
  
"I'm ready to go! My men are ready, come on, let's get going! The war may not be going anywhere but it's still waiting for us!"  
  
War is all you know.  
  
"And we will meet it happily."  
  
This is all you know.  
  


* * *

  
  
Your roommate is obsessed with carrots.  
  
Frankly, you're sick of the purple things, but you and your roommate, a Tholothian named Denelle, have a fairly good meal setup and you don't want to mess with it.  
  
So when it's her day to make dinner, you suck it up and eat the carrots. (In return, your admittedly few dinner nights often involve takeout or ready-made meals you’ve bought from the bodega nearby. Denelle, who loves to cook, puts up with it.)  
  
Something you do like is bread. Bread is amazing. Soft, chewy, dense or fluffy, you love every kind you try. Denelle has made a game of it, trying to bring home increasingly exotic bread products, both to see if you've had them before and to see if you enjoy it. You don't tell her about the plain circles of grain product you would eat as a youngling, or the ration bars you ate as a Padawan. You were never a Jedi, not to her. Not here.

  
You also like spices. Spices are amazing, and it's what finally gets you into the kitchen to try cooking yourself. Denelle shows you all the spices and you match each one to the corresponding flavour in your mind. Your kitchen career doesn't last much longer than that. You're not very good at cooking. But after that, you do help Denelle with dinner most nights.

 

She likes making you chop carrots.  


* * *

 

You dream. 

  
You dream of the Trandoshan hunting moon Wasskah, of being dirty and scared and running, always running. You take a deep breath, fight back tears at the sight of Kalifa's body, and run.  
  
You dream of a shadowy man with yellow eyes, of all-encompassing fear and exquisite pain and the too-late desire to run. You take a deep breath—  
  
You scream. _This is torture_ , you think, and you're being literal. This is torture. Don't say anything. Don't say anything. It doesn't matter what they do, you _cannot_ give them up. Fight back tears, and—  
  
You run, down the hallway of the Senate building, hand on Padmé's arm. "We have to go!" you shout, and the walls ooze red. Padmé doesn't move. She doesn't seem...solid. "I have to help present the counter," is all you can make out before she is too fluid to understand. She is red. She oozes. _We have to go_. You run.  
  
You dream of Fives—you dream _as_ Fives—you miss Tup, you hate the Kaminoans, and you can't stop running, because you're scared, you're so scared, of what they want, what they'll do, what they're _doing_ , because it's happening this very minute, you know it's happening, and you watch as everything around you greys out, colour leeching out of each object one by one. You stop running.  
  
You are shot in the back.  
  
The air is dark. Your head is pounding. You are gasping for air.  


* * *

 

The third time you regret leaving Shili, you wake well before dawn gasping for air, your head ringing and the Force bouncing back at you every time you reach for it, like it's—it's the last day of school before summer vacation. You'll be laid off for the summer, "but we'll happily welcome you back come the fall," as you’ve been told, but—it's the Jedi. They've fallen. They are no longer part of the Galactic Republic. There doesn't seem to be much of a republic left—  
  
You turn off the news holo. You leave your breakfast untouched on the table. Your head pounds, your early wake up still fresh in your memory. You leave the apartment without a word to Denelle. You walk to the school, where you will help protect innocent children from those that would do them harm, from the sorts of lives they shouldn't have to lead.  
  
Your mind is unsettled, angry, scared, _echoey_ .  
  
_Who was there to protect me, on Shili?_  
  
No one.  
  
_What sort of life was that to live, in the Clone Wars?_ _  
_  
None.  
  
And a quieter voice: _Where are all the Jedi?_  
  
You don't know the answer. You can't. The news reports were sparse on details. You don't know. And yet—  
  
_Where are all the Jedi?_  
  
Dead.

* * *

  
One weekend, not long before the school year was over, you decided to take advantage of one of your days off to go explore nearby neighbourhoods. You head upwards, hoping for some sky, and perhaps some distraction from your own thoughts, from the niggling in the back of your mind that something is about to happen, or is happening, and the knowledge that there's nothing you can do about it.

You'd climbed atop a skyscraper of apartments and accepted the distant view of cloudy smog above you—anything other than the canopy of metal you have over your head every day—when that feeling in the back of your mind piqued. You nearly jumped at the presence, and a second later, you'd placed the feeling. You felt your stomach drop to your feet, and before you could turn to face him, he spoke.

"Ahsoka," Anakin whispered. His voice was a rasp.  
  
You don't know what the Force was playing at, nudging you out there that day. You'd been expecting _something_ , but...you weren't expecting this.  
  
You turned around, and he was standing right there, on the other side of the roof. "A-Anakin?"  
  
_What are you doing here?_ was the question neither of you could seem to say. His hair was longer, brushing his shoulders. He seemed...tired. And shorter, but you know that it was you who’d changed, rather than him.

"Are...do you…live—"

"I live here. Nearby."

He nodded, looking down.

"What brings you here?"

"The Chancellor," he said, and you should’ve known. The war had finally reached Coruscant, and Chancellor Palpatine had been kidnapped by General Grievous the day before. Of course Anakin would be on this.

"Is he here?" you asked.

"I can't give details about an ongoing investigation," Anakin spouted off, the words rote more than anything. It hurt more than you thought it would to hear them.  
  
"Right," you said. "Not my place."  
  
He sighed. "Snips..."  
  
You exhaled. _That_ hurt even more. You looked up and met his gaze. "Don't get all defensive now. Or apologetic. I chose this for myself."  
  
"That you did," he said bitterly.  
  
Your eyes narrowed. "And you know _why_."  
  
"Look, I can't say I agree with every decision the Council makes, but I still don't understand how you could just _leave_. Why did you— if you stayed, we could— we could've—"  
  
"Anakin, you know the Council. They're about as likely to change or evolve as Ilum's caves are to melt. Barriss did something so _extreme_ , and it still changed nothing. And after what happened...I couldn't stay. There wasn't anything left for me."  
  
Anakin shook his head, turning away from you to leave. "And what about me? I didn't mean anything to you? Or I guess I just didn't mean enough."  
  
"Anakin. Anakin, wait!" Your desperation came through in your voice and it made you wince, but it worked.  
  
He turned back to face you. "The Chancellor's waiting for me. I have a job to do." His face was hardened, shut off.  
  
"So you do." Your hands itched more than ever. His job was not yours, hadn't been for some time. "Go save the day, Skyguy."  
  
Anakin huffed a laugh, his face scrunching in amusement or pain or possibly both, and he turned and leapt off the building without another word.

 

* * *

 

You sit at your kitchen table, flipping through profile after profile on your datapad now that you’re home from your last day at work.

Every Jedi you look up now has been marked as a criminal, charged with treachery against the newly-founded Empire. All of them. The entire Council, every Jedi you fought alongside in the war, and even the younglings.  
  
What's missing from their records is specific charges or details of any sort. The statement to the public following the report of the Jedi defection told people not to worry, that it was being taken care of.  
  
You saw Anakin less two weeks ago, and now...  
  
Now it's—easy to assume.

 

* * *

 

The news is horrific right now, but since you are currently unemployed, you have a hard time ignoring it.  
  
You're putting away groceries one afternoon with the news holo on in the background when you hear the words 'Senator Amidala', and your stomach turns over. You haven't thought about Padmé in ages, and you fill up instantly with worry that is months overdue. You turn up the volume on the holo.  
  
"—well-respected in her profession, passed away last week. The Senator experienced unseen health complications related to her pregnancy and neither her nor the baby survived. Her funeral service was held today, on her homeworld of Naboo."  
  
The newscaster moves on to the next story, another Senator, who's missing. You turn off the holo with numb fingers.  
  
She's gone. She was _pregnant_ , and now she's _gone_ , and you hadn't even known!  
  
You move to sit on the couch, your thoughts racing. You haven't seen Padmé face to face since the trial, about a year ago now. The last time you saw her was around two months ago, on a recording of a Senate meeting. Padmé was one of your favourite people, because she was fierce and undeniable and intelligent and loving. She brought out the best in you. She brought out the best in everybody, especially Anakin.  
  
You are almost certain Anakin was the father of Padmé's unborn child. It's no stretch of your imagination. Your chest hurts at the thought of an entire family, gone just like that.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Ahsoka! This is a pleasant surprise. Is Anakin with you?" Padmé asked, gesturing for you to take a seat before her desk.  
  
You flopped onto the chair and crossed your arms. You were fourteen, a Padawan of about eight months, and while you liked Padmé just fine, you still didn't really _know_ her. "My master had to meet with some other Jedi for a strategy meeting. He sent me to accompany you today, as a 'learning experience'."  
  
Padmé smiled softly. "Well, my plan for the day mostly involves paperwork, but there's certainly something for everyone to learn when it comes to politics!"

You fought the urge to grimace. You and Padmé had very different opinions on politics. Despite that, you did pass the afternoon quite happily in Padmé's Senate office, eventually pulling your chair around to her side of the desk to better see what she was showing you.  
  
"After the Senate found out about the Talz colony on Orto Plutonia, some of the senators wanted them to contribute to the Republic, as most peoples across the galaxy do."

This was about the mission your master had returned from just recently with the Pantoran senator. From what Anakin had told you, this seemed...bizarre. "But...my master said that they live a pretty...simplistic life. What could they contribute?"  
  
"Oh, believe me," Padmé looked down at her desk. "Some senators can be very...creative."  
  
"So...what is all this?" You gesture to the stacks of datapads across Padmé's desk.  
  
"The senator from Pantora, Riyo Chuchi, is in support of continuing to let the Talz live separate from the rest of the galaxy, as they want. It's part of the deal they brokered when she and the Jedi were on-planet. The opposing Senators are going to present their side tomorrow, and Senator Chuchi asked me to help with her counter. So," Padmé began pointing at different piles of pads. "I have lots of files on developing civilizations of the Republic, Pantoran history, Talz history, Senate files on past cases and laws that are similar to this..." she trailed off and laughed a bit. "You look slightly alarmed."  
  
You realized your eyes had widened considerably and blinked a few times. "You're going to read all of this before tomorrow?" you asked, sounding a bit more incredulous than you'd like.  
  
"The Senate files are mostly review for me, but I want to be familiar with what we're talking about when it comes to the other areas. I don't want to leave any loopholes for the other senators to slip through. We have enough going on as it is."  
  
You tilted your head. "You have a point. Why are you going to so much trouble for a small colony when there's so many, arguably bigger, things going on?"  
  
Padmé put down the pad she was holding with a small clack. She leaned back in her chair a bit, seeming to seriously consider your question. She turned to look at you, and her warm brown eyes held your gaze fast. "I do think it's the little things that define us, make us who we are. It's less about what you say, and more about what you do. And what I want to do, what I aim to do as a senator every day, is help others."  
  
You still weren't sure a handful of Talz were worth it when, say, Christophsis, with millions of people, was under attack every day, but you liked Padmé's point about action. You scooted your chair a bit closer to Padmé and let her explain what she was currently reading.

 

* * *

   
  
After dinner, you join Denelle in the sitting room. She's knitting and you're both pretending that the news in the background isn't half suspected and confirmed deaths and half propaganda for the new Empire.  
  
You remember visiting Onderon with Padmé, meeting Lux for the first time and being so _rude_ , just because he happened to live on a planet that joined a different system from the one you knew. Padmé had pointed out the flaws in your thinking, and you try to apply her logic to the Empire, but it doesn't work. This isn't a different government system in a different place, this is a new and foreign government in a place that should be home.  
  
You miss Padmé so much.  
  
You let out a quiet sob, and you didn't even realize you'd been crying until then, but you are, and now Denelle knows and she puts down her knitting to lean across the couch, to put her hand on your arm, to croon softly, "Ahsoka, Ahsoka, it'll be okay, we'll be okay, it'll be okay," and the Force still echoes painfully in your head, and you realize it won't, it won't, it won't.

 

* * *

 

You don't think it counts as sleeping in if you're awake the whole time, but most days, you don't get out of bed 'til late morning. Your nightmares keep you from getting much sleep nowadays.

After you do get out of bed, eat, and so on, you usually leave the apartment, just to wander.

If you happen to take note of new Empire practices in the neighbourhoods you walk, that's completely accidental.

If you sometimes make the troopers' lives a bit more inconvenient, that's also completely accidental.

"You're going to get yourself into some real trouble one of these days, you know."

You look over at Eeda, the old Abednedo woman whose groceries you're carrying. "I can handle myself. I'm not too worried."

"You may not be," Eeda grumbled. "But I certainly am." She picks up the last bag from the ground. "Although I am grateful for your help, don't get me wrong, girl."  
  
You smile a bit as you lead the way down the nearby alley. Trooper patrol paths rarely go through alleys, and Eeda's dealt with enough of their nonsense today. "It's my pleasure," you say. "And I'd love to say hi to Lidi."  
  
You met Eeda about two weeks ago, when you noticed a couple of troopers harassing her for seemingly no good reason. The thought had crossed your mind that perhaps as someone who had once been imprisoned and on trial in the Republic, not to mention once part of a group now branded traitors and criminals in the Empire, it might be wise to not draw attention to yourself, but you couldn't stop yourself from stepping in.  
  
You'd told off the troopers, praying they wouldn't recognize you, and it seemed they didn't. They told you off right back, but once you got them to leave (without even touching them, wouldn't Master Plo and Obi-Wan have been proud), Eeda told you that they'd been suspicious of an old woman having so much food.  
  
"There's a lot of uncertainty right now, I understand that. But there's also a lot of orphans." she'd said. "And my grandchildren are orphans, so I'm raising them. Not that the troopers care enough for me to explain that. They just think I'm a greedy old—" and then said a word you wouldn't have dared to say around your elders. You decided you liked her then and there, and your decision was only reaffirmed when you got to Eeda's home and you recognized her oldest grandchild, Lidi, from the school you worked at. They were good people, and you appreciated both the company and the chance to do something with your time.  
  
Now, you made sure that you happened to be wandering through the market when Eeda tended to do her shopping. While you had been slowly deciphering patrol paths, you hadn't yet figured out if the troopers who liked to stop and question Eeda were the same two or different ones every time.  
  
Eeda isn't the only person you stop to help on a regular basis. She is just the one you help in the market around midday. There are others: Charo, the Rodian man who has a fruit stall that you help dismantle at the Empire's 'commercial curfew' most afternoons; Riva, the homeless human woman who you usually give the fruit that Charo gave you for free to, and Gill, a clone. You keep almost accidentally calling him a trooper, but the one time you did that to his face, he said quietly but emphatically, " _Ex_ -trooper. The missing leg kinda disqualifies me." He goes for walks in the early afternoons, and he doesn't really appreciate being coddled, but you've always had a hard time leaving well enough alone when it comes to your clones, never mind that Gill was never one of them. Mostly, you just walk with him, and mostly, he doesn't hate it.  
  
You've lived in Coruscant as a regular citizen for more than a year now; you are no stranger to the dark edges and the dirty corners, but you can feel it as you walk—the air itself is different. It's more than the Force and the obvious lack of users you sense every minute. The Force flows through everything, and right now it feels more like it buzzes through everything you see. The world is taut, on edge. And maybe it's just the sad assignment of the undercity, but the troopers here are the meanest you've ever seen them. You wouldn't have found the people you help if it weren't for troopers antagonizing them first.  
  
And yet, you still feel listless. You've talked with Riva today, watched the streetlights come on, and you know that Denelle will be home within the hour.  
  
_This isn't enough,_ you think suddenly. _I'm not doing enough._ You fold your arms as you walk briskly down the street. What else can you possibly do? You're nobody, you have been for some time. And even all the somebody's you once knew are gone. What you're doing isn't bad or useless, not to the people you help. It would have to be enough.  
  
_It's not._  
  
But it would have to be.

 

* * *

   
  
Denelle gently suggests you look for another job over dinner one night. "I think it'd be good for you to get out of the apartment more!" She holds her breath for a second after she says it, like she's expecting immediate resistance, then goes back to her food as she waits for your reply.  
  
Silently, you can't agree more that getting out of the apartment is exactly what you need. Also silently, you think of your daily excursions around the nearby neighbourhoods.

"I'll think about it," you say aloud.  
  
The next day, once Denelle's gone to work, you wake up thinking of Padmé, and soon find yourself searching her up on the holonet. A lot of it's rather boring, as your opinion on most of politics has never really changed, or honestly, just gotten worse as you've grown older. But in the names associated with certain bills Padmé worked on, and in the faces alongside Padmé's in Senate holovid clips, you begin to see a pattern.  
  
And though the Republic is gone, and the Senate is changed as it is, with its glaring gaps and its newly named Emperor, the Senate _does_ still remain. You search up the Imperial Senate, and there you find them: almost all of the familiar faces you're looking for are there.  


* * *

   
  
Senators have suggestion boxes, apparently, which is odd and kind of hilarious, especially when you imagine all of the crap Anakin probably would have put in Padmé's box if he knew about it. Maybe he did, you don't know.  
  
What you're dropping off today is a lot more serious than anything Anakin would have left for Padmé, however. It is also coded, and you're not sure how much your recipient knows of codes, so your hopes aren't terribly high.  
  
But you do have hopes. 

 

* * *

   
  
"Ahsoka!" Denelle calls as she walks in the door. "Mail for you!"  
  
It's been just over a week since you stopped by the Senate mail room. You take the datachip from your roommate and immediately begin examining it. "I'll be in my room if you need me," you say, not even looking up. You can't get to your room fast enough, and you insert the chip into the terminal as soon as you're there.  
  
It's an encrypted message, and you exhale in relief. That is a good sign, right? That the reply is written in kind to your message? It can't mean anything _bad_. You decode it faster than anything you've decoded in your life, and before long, you're reading a reply that has a hopeful smile spreading across your face.  
  


* * *

 

You're making yourself a sandwich, with big huge slabs of Ebla bread, eating bites of your breakfast in between.  
  
"Going somewhere?" Denelle asks, packing her own lunch.  
  
"Job hunting!" you reply cheerfully. "I dunno where I'll end up, so I thought I'd take a lunch, cover more ground."  
  
"Nice!" Denelle looks so pleased, you feel a bit bad for lying to her. Although really, it is...sort of like a job interview, what you're doing, right? ...right.

 

* * *

   
  
In the reply you sent back, you specified the location and time of day, but not the date. You weren't certain how busy a Senator/Prince Consort would be in a new Empire, so you told him you would wait for a week. Which turned out to be a good call, as he didn't show up 'til the third day.  
  
You watch from the balcony of the building across from the outdoor café you picked as the meeting spot. Bail Organa orders a drink and sits at a table near the door that leads inside to the kitchen. His poorly-disguised bodyguard sits two tables away. You wait, but they don't seem to have been followed, and the usual amount of stormtroopers for this level of Coruscant suggests that Bail has not brought the fury of the Empire down with him, so that bodes well. You ball up the remains of your sandwich and jump down into the alley.  
  
Approaching Bail's table, you make sure your cap is on straight. You didn't name yourself in your correspondence with the Senator, for a multitude of reasons. Instead, you called yourself a friend of Padmé, and decided to use the knitted green cap Denelle made for you (with peaks for the tops of your montrals) as an identifier.  
  
You sit down at Bail Organa's table.  
  
"Amica?" he asks before you can say anything.  
  
_Friend._ You nod. "Senator Organa, thank you for meeting me. I don't know if you remember who I am, I—"  
  
"Of course. Ahsoka Tano." You meet his gaze for the first time, surprised. "Padmé was very fond of you. Your trial and leaving upset her for quite some time. I'm glad to see you well."  
  
You're stunned. The man is genuine, you can tell, and that makes it even harder to blink back tears. "Thank you," you say. "I'm sincerely glad to see you well too." You inhale, then quickly exhale. _You're here for a reason_. "Would you like to come with me somewhere...safer? And less public. Your bodyguard can come too," you add.  
  
Bail chuckles, glancing at his guard. "You have a good eye," he says, and you don't have the heart to tell him that you don't, really, it's just the undercity of Coruscant is an entirely different world from the ones he's surely used to. "Of course. Please lead the way, Ahsoka."  
  


* * *

   
  
It takes a handful of meetings before you feel as though you actually have a semblance of a plan. Your hands are itching to get to work.  
  
How it's laid out is this: Bail Organa and a handful of other Senators he won't name, for their safety (although you're sure you could at least guess at them if asked), are willing to do quite a bit to dismantle this Empire and its tyrannical Sith leader.  
  
(And hadn't that been quite the dropped bomb—learning that all along, the Chancellor, Anakin's _friend_ , had been the Sith lord you all hunted for. You'd felt the Dark Side entrenched in the Empire, as you'd felt it growing in the Republic all throughout the war, and you'd guessed the Sith were involved in the fall of the Jedi and Republic somehow, but you never would have imagined _this_. "It is not common knowledge, obviously," Bail said. "But it would have been impossible for him to take power as he did without revealing himself. So some do know." He said it with the undertone of 'knowledge is power', but in this case, you're not sure that knowing what you're up against gives you anything other than more nightmare fuel.)  
  
So.

A handful of Senators who hate the Emperor, each with a substantial amount of funds available to them.  
  
One teenaged Togruta, a sabre-less ex-Jedi.  
  
Rebel cells popping up across the galaxy, on all sorts of planets.  
  
All they're missing is unity, cohesiveness, a strong leader...  
  
Yeah, no big deal. Sighing, you rub your forehead. It's been a long afternoon and you're frustrated and tired.  
  
"You must understand," Bail says. You sit up. "We are quite high profile people in the Repu— the Empire. If we are to keep our positions, we must not let our public personas change in any way, certainly not in an anti-Empire way." You nod, and he goes on. "But you must also understand this; I have been doing what little I can from my position to inhibit this Empire from the day it was born, and that will not change until my dying day." The Senator ends his small speech with a determined sort of fire you tended to associate with Padmé and Anakin. You smile. If there's anything you learned from the two of them, it was to never, ever give up, even when the odds were impossibly stacked against you. You like to think you're similar to them in that regard.

  
"Let's hope that day is far off then, Senator Organa, because I'm hoping you'll let me help you make a lot more trouble for this Empire."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And So It Begins. 
> 
> thank you for reading! this story will only have one or two more chapters, depending on how much it continues to get out of hand (as this was going to originally be a one-shot). i started writing this almost directly in response to my massive anticipation of the young adult novel for ahsoka being released in october. my story and e.k. johnston's will probably match up very little, but it will be interesting to see how it plays out!
> 
> thanks again! i hope you enjoyed. kudos and comments are much loved.
> 
> you can find me @ wraithinej.tumblr.com and @ twitter.com/alinastarkovas, where mostly right now i talk a lot of star wars


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka makes her way to Alderaan in the Empire's fledgling years.

You spend your first night out of the Temple as a civilian train-hopping and walking deeper and deeper into the city. You go until your legs are shaky and you can go no more.  
  
You spend your first morning out of the Temple sobbing in a club's back alley.

 

* * *

 

You introduce Riva to Charo in a stroke of not-quite-brilliance that you really should have thought of weeks ago. Riva is more than willing to help Charo dismantle his cart, and Charo is insistent on repaying the favour in food, no matter the helper.  
  
You're biting at your thumbnail, trying to figure out how to help Eeda once you're gone. Nobody you know well goes to Eeda's market, and you can't ask Lidi or any of her siblings to go with their grandmother; they're too young to have to deal with harassment like that.  
  
"Girlie, we walking or not?" You look up sharply, thumb leaving your mouth, and see Gill standing a few metres away, leaning forward on his crutches and his eyebrows raised.  
  
"Sorry, yeah," you say. When you first met (and sort of maybe forced your company on) Gill, and he asked for your name, you hesitated. You weren't sure how comfortable you were giving your real name to someone who had been directly involved in the war like you had. But before you could say any name, real or fake, Gill had said, "Whatever, girlie, you can keep the name. It's fine." And that had just seemed...easier.  
  
Except for the 'girlie' part. You put up with it. It helps that Gill's voice is so familiar, though.  
  
"Gill," you say, breaking the silence. He grunts in reply. You go on. "I'm leaving. The planet. I wanted...well. I don't really want to leave you alone...I mean, not that you _need_ me, but I figured you might still want some company..." Your brain nudges Eeda to the forefront of your mind again and your brow furrows. Maybe... You begin to formulate a question that is probably extremely indelicate and not pleasant for Gill to think of, but before you can say a word, Gill says only one that stops you in your tracks:  
  
"Commander."  
  
Your eyes don't leave the ground. Gill stops a step ahead of you. You haven't been called that in a long time. There's a roaring in your ears. _How did he know? How long has he known? What do I do? What will_ he _do?_ _  
_  
"You're thinking too hard, gonna hurt yourself," Gill says.  
  
You swallow nervously and look up to meet his gaze. With your steady, infinitesimal growth and him leaning on his crutches, you see exactly eye to eye.  
  
"I'm not gonna tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about."  
  
"Okay," you reply, practically whispering. "How...did you know?"  
  
"CT-6737, part of the 501st Legion from the second Battle of Geonosis onward." Gill straightens as he says it, the pride and loyalty all clones carry in them shining through in a rare display. "We never met, one on one, but everyone in the 501st knew you."  
  
A dozen memories of being on the front lines, in hyperspace, camping, eating, and healing with the 501st flash through your mind. All you can do is nod. Then, almost involuntarily, your eyes flick to Gill's left leg, which ends above where the knee should be. "What happened?" you ask quietly.  
  
You've never asked before. At first, you didn't want him to bite your head off (as almost anything you said seemed to warrant that reaction in the beginning), and after that, it just...didn't seem to matter that much. Until now. Gill sighs and moves to sit on a bench up against a shoe store. You join him, stomach churning for some unknown reason.  
  
"It was the last battle of the war. Here, on Coruscant." Your mind flashes to Anakin on the roof, turning away, your hands tingling, and a part of you aching to follow. Gill was with Anakin when you weren't. It's a small comfort. "It was a clean wound, wouldn't have needed much treatment or rehab, but new government means new rules. Clones aren't being made anymore. The Kaminoans aren't being funded anymore. Army's open to volunteers now, dunno if you've noticed the signs. Anyway, the point is, the Emperor clearly doesn't see the point in keeping one clone around when he's got thousands more. Teel thought...Teel thought they might kill me, like they did with Tup. Defective means discarded. But clearly they didn't even want to waste the resources on that. Once I was fit to leave the medbay, I was just...escorted out of the base. Right onto the street."  
  
You're stunned. Gill’s obviously not lying, not when he's sitting right next to you and you've known him for months, but you can't even visualize what he's describing to you. _What has happened to our world?_

You both watch the street in silence for a minute. There's a lot of afternoon traffic, people walking past and speeders whizzing by. A pair of troopers walk by, and you note the second they realize who— _what_ —Gill is. One of them clenches his shoulders up, and the other nudges his arm. They speed up, walking past and not daring to look back.  
  
"They don't wanna be me. I'm their worst nightmare," Gill snorts.  
  
"I'm sorry," you say. It feels so inadequate.  
  
"It's not your fault, girlie."  
  
You look down the street at the quickly disappearing troopers. "Do they all react like that?"  
  
"Pretty much. It's basically always outright ignoring, it's just the ability to do so that varies from man to man."  
  
Ignoring, huh? Your lips twitch a smile. "Would you be willing to change your walking route slightly, as a favour to me?" You turn back to face Gill. "I have a friend who could really use your help."

 

* * *

 

"I'm going to miss you so much." Denelle has hardly touched her breakfast, instead watching you eat and ready your things to leave. 

"I'm going to miss you too." You sit down at the table next to her. "A lot. You've helped me...more than you could ever know, and I'm so grateful for that."  
  
Denelle moves suddenly, grabbing you in a hug, tucking her head against your lekku.  
  
You've left what remains of your money to Denelle, since you're not giving her much notice to find a new roommate. "Trust me," you said when she protested, thinking of Bail, "I don't need it where I'm going." You hope it's enough, even though you know you could give Denelle an entire world and you still wouldn't feel it was enough.  
  
"Will I ever see you again?" Denelle whispers into your neck. You freeze, tighten your hold on her back.  
  
"I—I don't think so."  
  
Denelle exhales, the air warm on your neck. "Somehow, I'm not surprised," she says in a hoarse whisper.  
  
"I'm sorry," is all you can think to say. Denelle just holds you tighter.

 

* * *

 

"A-are you okay?"  
  
The question broke the trance you'd been in, and you flinched full-bodied, reaching at your empty belt instinctively. If that guy came back looking for food again...  
  
You looked up to see a young Tholothian woman looking at you worriedly.  
  
"I—I saw that man come into the alley and leave a few minutes later looking a lot more grumpy and I...I was just concerned, I'm sorry, it's none of my business, I'll leave you alone—"  
  
"No," you interrupted. _Please don't leave_ . "No, you can stay." _I'd like that_ .  
  
"Or..." She twisted the handles of her bag. "Or, you could come with me? Only if you want. I'm making a curry tonight and that always leaves me with way more food than I need, I'd love if you could help me not let it go to waste?"  
  
You were speechless, watching this woman, probably no older than Anakin, looking rather nervous for someone living in the undercity of Coruscant, invite you to her home for dinner. She didn't even know your name.  
  
"You don't even know my name," you said, baffled.  
  
"Oh! Well," She mushed her lips together. "You can tell me if you like, and it's fine if you don't. I'm Denelle," she introduced, holding out a hand in both a shake and a help up from the ground.  
  
You stared at her face for a few seconds, then her hand, then the alley you've been squatting in all day. You thought about Anakin, and Barriss, both unwittingly, and of Master Plo.  
  
"My name's Ahsoka."  
  
You reached up and took Denelle's hand.

 

* * *

 

Senator Organa's luxury line cruiser is the nicest ship you've been on in years. You're almost afraid to touch anything, but that fades fast once you get into hyperspace and exhaustion catches up with you.  
  
You sleep the entire time you're in hyperspace, and one of the Senator's aides comes to wake you as you enter the Alderaanian system.  
  
The planet is gorgeous on approach, all blues and greens. You've been here once before, accompanying Padmé to a conference concerning war refugees, but that was some time ago. You're glad for this planet and it's people, that war never came to their door. At least some of the universe deserves peace.

 

* * *

 

You're meditating on your bed when there's a single knock at the door and it opens to reveal the Senator. You've been waiting in this bedroom, isolated and hidden in the palace's lower levels, for over eighteen hours as Senator Organa dealt with the official business of being back on Alderaan as a Senator and Viceroy. You take his arrival now to mean he is ready to do business as a rebel.  
  
"I brought lunch," he says, pulling the door shut behind him and setting the tray on the nightstand. "As well as apologies. I did not mean to make you wait so long."  
  
You shrug, leaning over to nibble on some vegetables. "I understand." And you do. Being left to your own thoughts for so long wasn't fun, exactly, but you aren't here to have fun. (Well, not only. It's low on the priority list.)  
  
While you eat, Senator Organa pulls up holos to help detail your mission. There are maps of the valley city, of the specific buildings you'll be heading to, of the secret passages underneath the palace, and there are profiles, of a group of humans, ranging from your age to early forties. All wanted for arrest on acts of treason against the Crown and Empire.

The local rebels. You will find them. And you will do your best to convince them to join you.

 

* * *

 

After the Senator leaves, off to his next responsibility, one of his aides that travelled here with you comes in to give you a short cultural lesson, which is a bit boring, but important. You can pinpoint the exact second she remembers the city is not quite the one she has always known, now the Empire exists, and slowly adjusts her information accordingly. Eventually, she reaches the topic you have oh-so-much love for: troopers. 

"Stormtroopers have a presence on-world, of course, as they do in all major Imperial systems, but it's minimal deeper in the city and nonexistent in the palace. Her Majesty refused anything else." The aide hands you a chip. "This is data that's been collected on their behaviour and such." You take the chip, barely taking in what she's saying.  
  
_Her Majesty_ . Her Majesty the Queen of Alderaan, Breha Organa. You're not sure where she stands in all of this, the secrecy and rebellion and you, the probably-illegal ex-Jedi. You've honestly never spared the woman more than a passing thought but are now abruptly nervous at the prospect of meeting her, if that would ever happen.  
  
The aide leaves and you work on studying and memorizing the information you've been given. Barriss was the one who taught you the best memorization methods, and you hate yourself for thinking of her every time you use her tricks. It's fine. You're fine. You memorize the train schedule. You memorize the tunnels. You read the five rebel profiles over and over until you feel your head's about to blow, and then you go to bed.

 

* * *

 

There's a warehouse district in the city, of course, albeit smaller than you've seen in most cities, most likely due to the city being built in a valley. The city's clearly grown since it was first developed, slowly crawling up the sides of the surrounding mountains. The warehouse district is tucked into a dip in the mountains that makes it largely unseen from the rest of the city, and borders on a poor residential neighbourhood.  
  
You take a train from downtown out to the neighbourhood, then walk the rest of the way. The sky is amazing, a wide, deep blue, regularly interrupted by white peaks and white clouds. As you approach the mountain the warehouses are against, the sky becomes less visible, and you instead have the looming view of trees and snow above your head.  
  
The warehouses are a lot less impressive. There's graffiti painted on some, but other than that they're a standard boring grey with a standard side of rust. _Fifth row, seventh over,_ you remind yourself. You hope the rebels are actually here: this mission would be a lot more difficult otherwise. Also, if they were tired, that would be nice. It would mean they'd be less likely to attack you. Hopefully.  
  
You turn down the fifth row, and when you reach the fourth warehouse over, you sense a blaster bolt flying through the air towards you. It's coming from overhead, probably from the top of the sixth or seventh warehouse. You take a spinning step to the right, leaning away as the blast shoots past you. "Oh, come on," you mutter. "I just want to talk!" you shout at the warehouse. "Do I look Imperial to you?"  
  
"Drop any weapons you have," comes a voice from behind you. It makes you jump, and you're flash-red angry for a second that someone was able to sneak up on you. The blast, you sensed, but not this? You turn to see a human man, about ten metres away, who looks to be in his forties. He's holding a blaster rather comfortably, pointing it at your chest.  
  
"I don't have any weapons," you reply. You hold your arms out. "You can search me if you like, you won't find anything. I just want to talk."  
  
The man nods towards his left, and another human appears, a woman who comes up and pats you down quickly. "She's clean." The man nods again and let's his blaster drop, hanging around his shoulder with a strap.  
  
"Let's go, then," he says calmly. "You lead," he nods to his companion. You follow her silently, and are mindful to keep their presences alight in your mind.  
  
They take you to their warehouse. It's dark inside, but you can hear and sense two other people. Your two lead you to a desk that has a light set into it, and you find yourself facing a young human woman, about your age, and a human man who might be around Padmé's age.  
  
"Why are you here?" the younger man asks. The older woman hops up to sit on the desk, in between her two younger companions. The older man stays behind you; his gun still hangs on his shoulder.  
  
"I'm here because I've heard about what you're doing. And I wanna know if you're interesting in doing the same things, but on a bigger scale."  
  
"What do you mean?" asks the older woman.  
  
"I mean I'm not the Empire's biggest fan, and I wanna make life difficult for them, on a level a bit bigger than disturbing city patrols, and...I'm wondering if you'll help me." All of their faces are as blank and hard as stone, it's kind of freaky. You have to concentrate on staying calm. "I have money," you add. "Not like, on me, but I mean, I know how ridiculous taking on the whole Empire sounds. I'm not just starting from nothing." Except you kind of are. No need for them to know that, though. They continue to say nothing. "What do you think?"  
  
"We would have to ask our leader what she thinks," the man behind you says.  
  
You look over your shoulder. "Alright, where is she?"  
  
The man walks past you and you let your gaze follow him as he comes to stand next to the young woman. "Right here," he says.

 

* * *

 

"Your title as member of the Grand Army of the Republic is Commander," Anakin told you. The two of you were leaving Christophsis, on your way to find Jabba the Hutt's son, and you were still high on the adrenalin from your first day as Padawan, saving your Master's life with the wall you pulled down, and your Master actually accepting you as his Padawan. "The men will address you as such," Anakin went on. "But the other Jedi, as well as the Admirals, will probably address you as Padawan. You understand?"  
  
You nodded. You were practically vibrating in your seat. The Force sung in your veins. Padawan, Commander, it was all _amazing_ .  
  
Anakin glanced at you sidelong. "I guess I'll keep calling you Snips. Don't want your ego getting too big, little one."  
  
You narrowed your eyes at him playfully and tried to corral your thoughts to be a bit quieter. "Whatever, Skyguy." You were so excited, you weren't about to let your master ruin your mood. You were fourteen years old, and you were finally, _finally_ a Padawan.  
  
(Mere months later, you lost almost an entire squadron of men over Ryloth because you were too proud and too stubborn to turn back when you were told. Anakin still called you Snips and you felt rotten inside.)

 

* * *

 

Mirele accepts your (completely crazy, honestly) proposal to take on the entire Empire. She's eighteen, one year older than you, and she is the leader of the rebels in the capital. You're no stranger to leaders that seem too young for their roles, but her group's loyalty to her does surprise you a bit. It's more than respect for a commanding officer. They all love her, ardently.  
  
Jun, the older man, seems to be her unspoken second-in-command. The other two are Amrita and Falk, who don't seem that far apart in age, late twenties or early thirties.  
  
There were five profiles you studied from the intel you were given. An older woman, who seemed to be related to Amrita, is absent. You don't ask about her, and they don't tell you.  
  
Instead, the five of you get right down to business.

"Do you hear that?" Falk asks. You can, but you weren't sure if your companions could, with their ears, so you hadn't said anything. The five of you are all sitting on the floor of a dimly-lit room, shoulder to shoulder, waiting.  
  
"What is it?" Mirele asks. Amrita shrugs, not that Mirele could know, as her shoulder brushes against yours.  
  
"It's cheering," you say, smiling. "They're cheering."  
  
Jun huffs a laugh from your left. Mirele, on his other side, begins to smile.  
  
"Very hospitable, these Corellians. We should come here more often," Falk says.

Amrita nudges him with her elbow, laughing silently.  
  
"You know," you say, "I didn't tell you this before, but I actually heard there have been anti-Imperial protests here."  
  
"Good," Jun says, and Mirele nods, her eyes bright.  
  
"Where _did_ you hear that, Ahsoka?" Amrita asks brightly.  
  
You roll your eyes. "From my super secret special source, obviously." The Senator hasn't exactly told you it's okay to let people know he's involved in this whole thing, so you're not about to tell anybody without his say-so, not even the people you've just risked your life with.    
  
Amrita looks about ready to question you further, ready to play the game the two of you have been playing since you first met.  
  
"You know what we need?" Mirele interrupts. You all turn to face her. "A code name."  
  
After a few seconds of silence, Amrita says, "I've got an idea. How about Phoenix?"  
  
"Is that..." you hesitate, unsure. "A bird?"  
  
Amrita nods. "From Alderaanian mythology. It's born, grows and lives, then dies in flames, only to be born again, raised up from its own ashes." Amrita raises her eyebrows.  
  
You grin. "I like it." You look around and see the others nodding.  
  
"Good," Mirele says. "From here on out, we are Phoenix."  
  
Just hours ago, Phoenix snuck onto Corellia on a refugee ship, then proceeded to blow up a Star Destroyer that was docked for repairs before it was supposed to head to Devaron. Phoenix is currently spending the night in the basement of an abandoned house as the citizens of Coronet City celebrate above them. Tomorrow, Phoenix will travel to a different city and leave the planet from there.  
  
Amrita is humming next to you. Falk is studying a cut on his hand, bobbing his head to Amrita's song. Mirele is resting her head on Jun's shoulder. You look down at your legs and smile.  
  
Being a part of Phoenix feels pretty good right now.

 

* * *

 

Breha holds tiny Leia's hands and guides her in a walk. The baby makes a babbling happy sound, and Breha looks up and laughs. The holo resets, playing a loop of Breha slowly leading Leia closer to the recorder.  
  
"She's amazing," Bail says with pride.  
  
You look at him and smile. "She is. I can't believe she's walking already." It's been almost a year since you first came to Alderaan to find Phoenix. You've been back multiple times since then, and one thing Bail always does when you're both here is give you updates on his daughter. It was strange, at first, for a man you consider, in some ways, to be your commanding officer be so familiar with you, but same as it happened with Padmé and Riyo, you grow to care for the Senator and consider him a friend. You've even met his wife and daughter, once. Updates on Leia are something you look forward to, now.  
  
"How was Mygeeto?" Bail asks as he turns off the holo.  
  
"Cold."  
  
Bail chuckles. "And the mission?"  
  
You smile. "Successful!" You pull out the datacard and hand it to Bail. "I hope this helps."  
  
"I'm sure it will. And how is Phoenix?" he asks as he puts the card into his robe.  
  
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yeah. It's Falk. He...he wants to leave Phoenix and come back to Alderaan. He wants to do work here."  
  
"What does he intend to do?"  
  
"He's told me about how the troopers are, out on the edge of the city, in the poorer neighbourhoods. People have _died_ . I know you and Breha do what you can, but it feels almost like the troopers intentionally act even worse since they're not allowed in the inner city.  And there's just...problems, problems cities have, you know? Food distribution, homelessness, issues with sewage...I mean, your city is no Coruscant, don't get me wrong. But it's still a city. And it's Falk's home, and I guess...there's just finally enough happening that home has taken priority over the galaxy." You try to understand how Falk feels about this, and you think you sort of get it, but you don't have any real comparison. Your childhood was kind of one long lesson in not getting attached, and you haven't really had a home since you left Denelle.  
  
However, Mirele is the leader of Phoenix, not you. And Mirele's decided to let Falk stay on Alderaan if he wants, which he does. You left Phoenix in the lowest level of the palace, in the secret room you all stay in when you're here. When you left, you'd heard Falk, excited, telling Amrita of his plans to set up his own group like Mirele and Jun had a year ago.  
  
You look up at Bail and blink. His face looks tired, and dark, somehow. What you can sense from him is tumultuous, uneven and unsure. "Bail? Are you okay?"  
  
Bail swallows. "I'm afraid not, Ahsoka."  
  
You don't know how to respond. "How...do you feel about letting Falk stay?"  
  
"Strongly," is all Bail says. Before you can even begin to formulate a response to that, he goes on to say, "I think it's time I introduced myself."  
  
Your eyes widen. "Are you sure? I mean, they've accepted it for awhile now, the whole 'anonymous benefactor' thing, and I'm pretty sure they know we stay in the palace but they don't know who you are, I'm sure of it!"  
  
"I am also sure. Please." Bail meets your eyes and he looks lost, but decided.

"Alright," you say quietly. "Let's go."

 

* * *

 

Phoenix meeting Bail goes significantly worse than you expected it to. Honestly, you're disappointed in yourself for not expecting a group of Alderaanian rebels to be less than thrilled with their queen's husband. 

Mirele has on her scary-hard face, looking like she could kill you without blinking an eye and not feel a thing as she did. Amrita and Falk's card game has come to a halt, their eyes wide.  
  
"Are we under arrest, Ahsoka?" Jun asks. He's standing, tense, hand on his blaster. You and Bail are hardly through the door.  
  
_Force take me_ , you think. _How is this my life?_  
  
"Of course not! I just..." You glance back at Bail, looking so determined he seems on the edge of sickness. "I just wanted to introduce you to our sponsor."  
  
Amrita lets her cards hit the table. This is the tensest you have ever seen any of your Alderaanian friends, and their mounting stress begins to press on you. You glance again at Bail, but he's studying Phoenix, one by one, and it just stresses you out more.  
  
"I'm here today," Bail finally says, "because I wanted to apologize. I cannot take the blame for the entire Empire, but I am responsible for what happens on my world. And as I understand it, I have not been taking good care of my world."  
  
Oh. You look over and meet Falk's gaze. _Sorry_ , you think at him. He doesn't look anything but stunned at the moment, but you still feel an apology is in order.  
  
"I've supported this group and their endeavours for some months now, and I want you to know," he says specifically to Falk, "that I will continue to support you in your work in this city. I'm not in the position to be as open as I would like in my dealings, which is why I'm so grateful that you here are willing to do all you feel you must for our people, and for the galaxy. I will help in any way I can." Bail stops, then nods. Before anybody in Phoenix can reply, he turns to you, grasps your arm at the elbow and murmurs, "We'll discuss the next step this evening. I'm sorry, I have a meeting now."  
  
"Of course," you manage to get out. "I'll see you tonight."  
  
Bail nods again and leaves without another word. You turn to face Phoenix. The five of you all stare at each other for a solid minute before Mirele finally says, "Ahsoka, you are full of boundless surprises."  
  
You think of how you know Bail, and everything that lead you to leaving Coruscant to come here in the first place. "You don't know the half of it," you mutter.

 

* * *

 

As the months go by, you dream of the Jedi and clones less and less. You're glad for it, really, until one night you dream of Plo, and he calls you little Soka, and you realize you haven't even thought about him in weeks. The pull to just let go of the pain and confusion and the push to not forget them, any of them, the people you left, makes you crabby. You snap at Amrita when she teases you over breakfast, then instantly regret it, partly because Phoenix is currently travelling, confined on a ship for a journey scheduled to take three days. 

  
You apologize to Amrita, and she accepts with a shake of her head, a _don't worry about it_ look on her face. She makes a comment about everybody having pasts, but that's it. You don't know how she figured out that was what it was about. And you remember the fifth member of Phoenix that existed before you, the one that was related to Amrita. You don't ask a thing, and she doesn't ask a thing in return.  
  
The rest of the trip goes smoothly. Your dreams are free of your past, at least for the next few weeks. You focus on the mission, always the mission, and the people here in front of you, this tiny group of humans who are fighting a seemingly endless battle with no signs of flagging. You refuse to do anything less than match them.

 

* * *

 

"It's beautiful up here." You inhale deeply and lean on the balcony rail. The summer air is fresh and cool, especially as high up as you are, at the top of the castle in the north tower. For once, Bail's sisters are away, and Bail didn't mind taking you to see a bit more of the castle with Breha and Leia. 

Breha leans on the rail next to you. "Isn't it? We're thinking of making it up into a room for Leia when she's a bit older."  
  
You smile. "That's a great idea." After a minute of peaceful silence, you’re interrupted by an insistent Leia.

"Look!" she commands, waving a doll at you. You crouch next to her, only to have the doll shoved in your face with another "Look!"

"I see it!" you reply. "It’s very nice."

"Good," says an abruptly satisfied Leia. She hugs the doll close and runs away, back into the tower room. Breha smiles, resting a hand on your arm for a moment before turning to follow. Bail comes out seconds later, and you begin your report. Falk is doing well in the city, and Phoenix heartily enjoys delaying Imperial retaliation attacks over and over again. There is always work to be done, which is nice.  
  
"Also," you add at the end, "I dunno if you heard about possible rebel activity on Chandrila? I saw something on HNN, and was wondering if you knew anything about it. I mean," you change to a more nonchalant tone, "Maybe we could ask them to join us, they might be interested." You glance at Bail sidelong to gauge his reaction. He hasn't told you the names of any Senators who are supporting this rebellion, but you'd bet just about anything that Mon Mothma of Chandrila is one of them. Bail doesn't react, but you like to think you see hints of a smile on his face.  
  
"I have heard that as well, yes. I think perhaps expanding our group might not be a bad idea at all. I'll look into it and let you know when I have something concrete, yes?"  
  
_I'll let you know what my Senate buddy says after I contact her_ , you think, and force down a laugh. "Sounds good!" you say.  
  
You turn to head inside, Bail following, when Bail stops you with a question. "Ahsoka?"  
  
"Mm?" You turn back to face him, leaving his family waiting for just a bit longer.  
  
"I'm certain we will be expanding in the future even if this particular lead doesn't pan out. And I quite like the name Phoenix, as a morale boost, but also as a code name. It's...convenient, and safer."  
  
"All true," you say. You're not sure where he's going with this.  
  
"I was just wondering...if you wouldn't mind a code name for yourself?" Bail looks slightly amused, possibly even excited.  
  
You'd never had a code name before, not really. They weren't of much use in the Order, but they were just more official nicknames, right? Having a code name _would_ be more convenient and safer, just like he said.  
  
"I...yes. I wouldn't mind having a code name at all."  
  
Bail lets a smile grow on his face before saying, "Perfect. How do you feel about Fulcrum?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea what i'm doing anymore honestly. three, four chapters, i have no idea. i also have no clue how long it will take me to write, unfortunately. this one took me two months to get together in a form that i didn't hate. hopefully the rest doesn't take as long!
> 
> the star wars celebration back in july was wonderful, and made me Feel A Lot of ahsoka-related feelings, but i am ignoring just about everything from her panel, unfortunately. canon is for the ya novel (which comes out so soon!!), énouement is just my sad, dream-riddled, 2nd pov brainchild.
> 
> thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed. kudos and comments are much loved.
> 
> you can find me @ wraithinej.tumblr.com and @ twitter.com/alinastarkovas


End file.
